


Cigarettes and Saints

by throwupsparkles



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Current Era Frank Iero, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Revenge Era Gerard Way, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: “I’ll see you again,” Frank tells him. And he believes it, against all the bullshit in the world, he believes that there’s no way that they are meant to be apart. He knows down to his molecular level, that he was put on this Earth to love and be loved by Gerard.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 31
Kudos: 96





	Cigarettes and Saints

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Saints and Cigarettes by The Wonder Years

Frank’s bone weary by the time he stumbles into his hotel room. And fuck, he might be a bit drunk too. It’s always hard to judge his tolerance these days. He’s not sure if it’s an age thing, or if it’s just that European beer always seems to knock him on his ass. So much more than that piss water they serve in the States. 

He giggles a bit to himself, because he sounds like Gerard. Every time they’d step on foreign soil, Gerard would get pissy about being an American. He’d go on these rants about how he wants to live in London one day, or maybe Scotland. But that was always before Mikey would intervene and say, “Japan.” And Gerard would beam at him. 

“You had a few, huh?” Gerard says from the bed. 

Frank’s stopped getting surprised by Gerard, he’s been sneaking into his hotel rooms for years. It feels like second nature to just tumble into Gerard at the end of the night. To let his sour sweet smell wash over him, lull him into dreams where they’re still pressed together on stages across the world. 

“Few,” Frank agrees, hopping on one foot while he tries to untie his shoe. 

Gerard snorts and beckons him over. “C’mere, dork.”

Frank takes a deep breath before looking at him. It’s always fucking jarring to look at him even though he has this face memorized. It fucks with him just a bit each time, to see the smoothness in his forehead, the brightness in his eyes, the slight crookedness of his lips. His hair is still jet black, shinny and clumping together. 

Frank hums and walks over, reaching out to trace his features, his small pointed nose that always crinkles when he smiles, over his still red shadowed eyelids, his rounded cheeks that are already blushing. “So pretty,” Frank whispers. 

“Yeah, you must be drunk,” Gerard chuckles, pulling Frank down onto the bed. He pulls his feet into his lap and slowly unlaces his shoes before setting them on the floor. “Shower?”

Frank wiggles his eyebrows. “Only if you get in with me.”

Gerard’s face pinches together. 

“I’ll wipe down with some baby wipes in the morning,” Frank says, laying back and staring up at the ceiling. It’s not spinning, which is a good sign. He’s not even that drunk, just that fuzzy, stumbly side of not being here. The kind that he always chases these days, just on the edge for it not to be a problem. But that’s probably a problem in and of itself. 

“You get so contemplative when you drink,” Gerard says softly, almost sad. And it scratches Frank’s heart the wrong way. It makes him think of those days on the bus where they’d drink cheap canned beer and lay on the floor because it seemed to ground them more. Back when they would slur different dreams that they’ll never get to see now. 

Frank giggles a little when he thinks of…”Hey.”

Gerard snorts. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember that time we talked about getting a house in the middle of a llama farm?”

Gerard’s soft, breathy laughter coats Frank’s fuzzy mind, takes him to somewhere safe where they’re still kids. Gerard shifts and lays out on the bed next to Frank, mirroring the way they used to lay on the bus floor. “Alpacas.”

Frank shakes his head. “No, I think it was llamas. Alpacas spit right?”

“I think that’s camels,” Gerard says. 

“No, well...maybe, but one of the furry neck things spit.”

“Furry neck things?” Gerard snorts. 

“Shut up, dude,” Frank laughs, throwing his leg over to kick Gerard, but his aim is off and he keeps kicking air before he gives up, “The...whatever, it’s not important, but do you remember the house?”

Gerard hums. “Yeah, I used to have the drawing somewhere.”

Frank feels something deflate in his chest. He’s got a handful of Gerard’s drawings in his house, stored away in a box that he keeps in his closet for when he’s feeling really low. 

“Hey,” Gerard whispers, and Frank feels him turn on his side, feels his lips brush against his cheek, “Hey, you promised.”

“I’m fine,” Frank says, “I’m not sad, I promise.”

“You can be sad, Frankie,” Gerard says, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Just don’t let it eat away at you.”

Frank turns on his side and leans in to catch Gerard’s kiss this time. He still tastes like coffee, cigarettes, and--Frank giggles into his mouth when he tastes it--watermelon chapstick. Gerard’s tongue is cold and sweet when he licks into Frank’s mouth, like he’s been drinking a soda while he waits. Frank sinks into the mattress, soft and malleable under Gerard’s ink and nicotine stained fingertips. 

“Missed you,” Frank whispers when Gerard’s kisses trail to his jaw, “So fucking much, Gee.”

“I know, baby,” Gerard murmurs, hands coming up to Frank's cheeks. They feel more rounded in his hands, not sunken in like he always feels. He feels like he’s wasting away most days, like his skin and muscles are just turning in to get clogged between his bones. Like his organs are corroding away under the toxicity of his thoughts, under the weight of his sadness, despair, the fucking anger. “Frankie.”

“Sorry,” Frank breathes, then reaches under Gerard’s shirt to stroke at the cool skin there. Gerard sucks in a breath, and Frank smiles a bit that his insecurity has never waivered, even after all this time. 

Gerard reaches down to tug at Frank’s belt. “Do you...I mean, can--”

“I don’t have whiskey dick,” Frank laughs against Gerard’s mouth, “Reach in and check.”

Gerard chuckles and nips at his bottom lip. “Not what I meant, asshole.”

“Love you too,” Frank grins, licking the mirroring smile on Gerard’s lips. 

Gerard pulls Frank’s belt through the loops, the sound of the leather sliding against denim makes Frank shiver and tug at Gerard’s shirt. He takes the hint and pulls his shirt off before tossing it onto the floor next to Frank’s belt. Frank leans up to lick at the dip of his collarbone, mouths up his neck and sucks at his Adam’s apple. 

“Frankie,” Gerard whines, shifting his hips to find friction. Frank pulls Gerard’s hips down and pushes his thigh up between Gerard’s legs. He moans and grinds against Frank’s jeans, breath coming out in quick spurts already. Frank will never stop loving how quickly Gerard gets into sex, how he loses himself in Frank’s touch almost instinctually. 

Frank reaches down to undo Gerard’s pants, grinning a bit at the safety pin that’s keeping them closed since the button popped off a long time ago. He tugs the material down Gerard’s thighs, briefly admiring the fact that Gerard still never wears underwear, then grabs Gerard’s hips and swings them over so that Gerard is on his back. He laughs a little, wondrous and winded, and it echoes like those early VFW shows. 

Gerard kicks off his pants and Frank shoves them down to the floor before spreading Gerard’s legs and resting his cheek against Gerard’s knee, smiling down at him. Fuck, he never gets tired of this. Will never want anything else but Gerard spread out beneath him like this. Cock hard and leaking already, lips red and wet, eyes glazed and bright with want. Frank reaches out to stroke Gerard’s thigh, “You’re so pretty.”

Gerard’s cheeks go from pink to red and he squirms a bit under Frank’s gaze. “Stop,” he grins, turning his head to try and hide his face in the blanket. 

Frank’s heart swells. How can someone this beautiful exist? Someone this sweet and loving, who has this unique way of looking at the world. Someone who’s made Frank see things in a different light, made him feel strong enough to walk the steps out of Jersey. And how could that someone be so in love with him? Really in love with him, not childish love that dissipates after the comedown. A love that surpasses logic, sanity even. Frank is out of his mind in love with this man. Always will be. 

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to his chest. His lips barely touch Gerard’s skin, but he feels him shudder beneath him. Frank hums and trails his hands down Gerard’s thighs to rest on his hips, his thumbs circling against the sensitive skin there.

Gerard turns his face back and reaches out to grip Frank’s grown out hair between his fingertips, pulls until Frank leans over him and their lips fuse together, kiss until Frank starts to taste himself on Gerard’s tongue. Kiss until Frank feels like he’s twenty four again, shaking against Gerard between sets in a supply closet. Gerard’s sweet sounds slip down Frank’s throat and gather in the hallowed chambers of his heart, the ones that Gerard dug out himself. Fills them up to the point that Frank forgets to be sad that Gerard did this to them, forgets to be angry that their ‘some days’ have turned into ashened memories. Stale dreams left out to weather underneath too many days left untouched. 

Frank reaches down and cups Gerard’s balls in his hand, grins when Gerard throws his head back into the mattress and whimpers something sweet and painful. Frank leans down to lick Gerard’s nipple, scrapes his teeth against it and watches it harden under his ministrations. “Still wanna pierce this,” Frank teases, biting gently. 

Gerard laughs and flinches. “Not a chance.”

Frank hums around it before kissing his way over to the other one, his hand coming up to stroke up Gerard’s cock. 

“Fuck, Frankie,” Gerard sighs, his hand coming up to ghost over Frank’s still cotton clad ass, “Why aren’t you naked yet?”

“Got distracted,” Frank breathes as Gerard’s fingers brush into the crease of Frank’s ass, pushing the soft fabric tight against his hole. 

Frank’s hand loses it’s rhythm on Gerard’s cock and he just squeezes as Gerard slides his hands up the curve of Frank’s ass before hooking his fingers into the waistband and tugging down Frank’s underwear. Frank pulls his shirt off as Gerard works the fabric down Frank’s legs. “Lube?”

“Suitcase,” Frank mumbles, situating himself against the pillows as he watches Gerard scramble off the mattress, giggling at the way Gerard stumbles a bit as if he had been the one drinking. Gerard makes a triumphant sound when he finds the bottle and Frank’s giggle turns into a full laugh. 

His laughter morphs into a moan the moment he feels Gerard’s slick fingers working him open. “Like that?” Gerard asks, voice full of wonder as if this was the first time they were doing this. 

Frank just spreads his legs further for him and rolls his hips over Gerard’s fingers, feeling him sink deeper before curling and pressing into that spot that makes Frank see stars. 

“Yeah,” Gerard murmurs, “Yeah, just like that.”

“Gee, please,” Frank whimpers as Gerard adds another finger. Gerard loves to finger him, loves to take his time to bring Frank right to the edge of too much. Likes to wait until Frank is nothing but melted sensations in Gerard’s hands, until he’s close to crying from the feeling of being stretched just short of enough. “Need you, baby, please.”

“Shh,” Gerard chides him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead and tucking his pinky past the tight circle of muscle, slick and sliding in easily next to his other fingers, “You always take it so good for me.”

Frank’s mouth is hanging open, his eyes screwed shut and he’s nothing but tightened nerves, ready to snap at Gerard’s command. “Please,” he breathes. 

Gerard pumps his fingers in and out of Frank, making soft sounds of encouragement as Frank winds up tighter and tighter without a hand on his cock. Only Gerard has this effect on him, only he can drive him to this point of unhinged. 

“Fuck, now,” Frank growls, and it earns him a chuckle and light slap against his thigh. 

“So needy,” Gerard teases, but his fingers draw out of him and Frank feels the dull thickness of his cock pressing against him. “This what you want?”

“Fuck you,” Frank moans, bucking his hips up to meet Gerard, who just laughs and grips his hips to still him. 

“Frankie, open your eyes,” Gerard says, “Look at me.”

Frank does and his heart feels like it’s going to crumble into ash like their dreams. Because Gerard is looking at Frank like he’s his whole world, his everything even though everything got taken from him. But this, Frank can give him this still, will always give him this. 

Gerard pushes in slowly, like he’s savoring every minute of it. Frank heels dig into the mattress, all the air leaving him as he’s filled, stretched in a way that makes him feel like he’s going to cease to exist wherever Gerard isn’t touching him. He curls around Gerard, digs his forehead into Gerard’s shoulder, wraps his arms around his neck, hooks his thighs around his hips and hangs on. Tries to consume him in every way possible, as if he could pull him into Frank, take him in and they’d just be one being. So that they’d never have to feel the pain of being alone again, so that they’d never know what it was to let out a breath and never feel it come back. 

“Mine,” Frank says, broken and near a sob. 

Gerard curls his hands under Frank to cup his ass and bring him closer, “Yours, baby, all yours.”

He holds Frank like that, just breathing while Frank adjusts, while he settles into the realization that this is happening. That he has Gerard right here in his arms, his breath is on his skin, his lips are pressed to his temple. He’s here, he’s Frank’s, everything is right with the world. 

Except it’s not. 

“Move,” Frank begs, “Please, Gerard, you need--” he breaks off into a moan when Gerard pulls out far enough to thrust back, finding a shaky rhythm that’s just sloppy enough for Frank to get off on the dirtiness of it. 

Gerard’s fingers bite into his hips and Frank sinks into the mattress, sinks into the sounds of the bed moving, of the erratic gasps tumbling from Gerard’s kiss bitten lips. Gerard waits until Frank’s moans are slurring into babbles and half formed pleas to pull out and flip Frank over, jerking his hips up so that his ass is in the air and his face is pressed into the pillows before sinking back into him. His hips snap forward in a bruising pace, so that Frank can’t think, can’t even imagine anything existing but Gerard, Gerard, Gerard. His mouth hot against Frank’s spine, mewling broken promises that’ll never happen. His cock stretching and filling Frank to the point that Frank’s vision blurs and he’s pretty sure he’s drooling on the pillow. His talented fingers finally, fucking finally, taking Frank’s cock and giving Frank something to thrust into as Gerard fucks him. 

“Frank,” is all the warning he gets before Gerard bucks into him one last time and Frank feels Gerard pulsing inside him. 

Frank groans, pushing himself further back on Gerard’s cock and grinning a little when he hears Gerard whine and tremble before pulling out. Frank’s about to say something smartass, but then he’s being flipped back over on his back and Gerard takes him in his mouth, fingers slipping back into his come dripping and open hole. It doesn’t take long, a combination of Gerard swallowing around him while his fingers curve and he’s coming down Gerard’s throat. 

When Frank comes back to his body, Gerard is kissing his sparrows possessively while he strokes his thighs. Frank hums contently and pets his hair, working some of the tangles out gently. 

“Where are you going tomorrow?” Gerard asks softly, nuzzling his cheek against Frank’s belly. 

“Belgium, I think,” Frank says, scratching at Gerard’s scalp. 

Gerard purrs and presses into his touch like a cat. “There’s that great store with the jackets there.”

“Jacket slut,” Frank retorts. 

“You liked the fur one,” Gerard points out, adjusting so that he’s resting his chin on Frank and looking up at him. 

Frank makes an agreeing sound in the back of his throat, pushing the hair out of Gerard’s eyes. He remembers fucking Gerard in that coat, wearing only that coat. He’s pretty sure they were in Paris that night, and he had Gerard laid out on their balcony with lit cigarettes forgotten in the ashtray. 

“You want me to get you another one?” Frank asks, even though it’s a low blow. 

“Frankie--”

“You could put it on when you visit me,” Frank says, “I could take your picture and we can pretend you’re aging like I am.”

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Gerard says automatically. Because it’s a conversation they’ve had too many times now. 

Frank brings his hands up to his face and covers his eyes, tells them to behave and not leak. Tells his throat to stop constricting, his heart to stop breaking. Just get through tonight, then do it all again tomorrow. 

“Frank--”

“You know,” Frank says, trying to sound nonchalant but he sounds like he’s swallowed sandpaper, “I light you a candle in every cathedral I pass.”

Gerard doesn’t say anything and Frank drops his hands to see Gerard’s wide, watery eyes stare back at him. 

“I bet every cathedral in Europe has a candle burning for you by now,” Frank whispers, reaching down to catch a tear sneaking out of the corner of Gerard’s eye. 

“You promised,” Gerard whispers back, turning his head to lick the tear off Frank’s fingers. 

Frank inhales shakily before untangling himself from Gerard. Gerard lets him get out of bed, but Frank feels his gaze on him as he pulls on a pair of sweats from his suitcase, grabs his pack of cigarettes, and walks out onto the balcony. 

He lights up and rubs at his face, getting a few drags in before Gerard comes out and joins him. He bums a cigarette off Frank and sinks into one of the chairs, looking up at him and smiling. He looks ethereal against the glow of the cigarette, like he’s an angel or something. And it makes Frank want to laugh and cry, because Frank’s stopped believing in heaven a long time ago, but that doesn’t stop him from picturing Gerard there. He thinks he remembers his mom telling him that angels like to sing. 

“You’ve got some grey hairs,” Gerard says proudly. 

Frank huffs a laugh, the smoke coming out in a shaky stream before it mingles with the damp spring air. “It’s getting long again.”

“I like it like that,” Gerard notes. 

“You don’t miss my emo hair from back in the day?” Frank asks.  _ Because then I’d match you _ , he thinks,  _ and it’d be like nothing changed. _

“No,” Gerard says quietly, “I like seeing you moving on.”

“I’m not though,” Frank reminds him, coming to the edge of the railing and leaning over it. The city is mostly asleep by now, and he’s not even sure he remembers where he is. It used to matter to him, back when he was a kid and everything was still new. He remembers not being able to sleep from the excitement of it all. It used to drive Gerard insane, made him threaten to duct tape him to the bed so that he could get some sleep. Of course they always found other ways to use that duct tape too. 

“You’re on tour again,” Gerard points out. 

“I don’t know what else to do,” Frank tells him, flicking ash off his cigarette. 

“You could do whatever you want.”

“Don’t,” Frank bites, turning around to glare at Gerard, “Don’t give me that bullshit. You of all people don’t get to give me a pep talk.”

Gerard bites his bottom lip and Frank thinks,  _ shit, that was too far _ . “I’m sorry.”

“Gee, no, shit,” Frank sighs, then he laughs bitterly, “So much for not bringing this shit up on your visits.”

Gerard sniffles and he shrugs before taking another drag. 

Frank flicks his cigarette away and he walks to Gerard, slides over his lap and leans into him. “You’re still real to me,” he whispers to him, “You’re here with me, right now. We have this.”

“How long?” Gerard asks, shaky like he always sounds when they talk about this, “How much longer will this last? What if when I leave tonight, this is it and--”

“I’ll see you again,” Frank tells him. And he believes it, against all the bullshit in the world, he believes that there’s no way that they are meant to be apart. He knows down to his molecular level, that he was put on this Earth to love and be loved by Gerard. 

Gerard sniffles a laugh, wet and snotty, “You’re so full of shit.”

Frank leans in to kiss him, licks into his mouth and cups his jaw when it trembles. “Just for you.”

Gerard tucks his face into the curve of Frank’s neck and breathes in slow and steady to work through the tears. Frank cradles him there, murmurs soothingly that he’s always going to be here waiting for Gerard to come back to him, that he’s always has a home with Frank. Wherever he goes when he leaves Frank, he can find his way back to him. He’s never going anywhere where Gerard can’t reach him. “Never leaving you,” Frank vows. 

It takes a bit, to the point that Frank can see the black sky lightning to a greyish purple, but Gerard lifts his head and says, “Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

Frank doesn’t argue, just crawls off Gerard’s lap and takes his hand. Frank ends up talking him into that shower, turns it on extra hot so that it turns Gerard’s skin pink and they can write dirty words on the condensation coating the shower stall. He takes his time working the shampoo through Gerard’s hair even though he’ll return to Frank with it matted again. He has Gerard sit in front of him on the bed while an infomercial plays as he works a comb through his damp tangles. He takes his time to work each one of them out, finding comfort in the monotonous task, in the little things he can do for Gerard while he’s here. 

“Do you want to hear about Mikey?” Frank asks quietly. 

Sometimes Gerard does. Sometimes they spent most of the night talking about Mikey, how he’s gotten better over the years and that he’s built himself a family now. That he still calls Frank to talk about memories, but they end in laughter more than tears these days.

“Not tonight,” Gerard says in a small voice. 

Frank presses a kiss to the back of his neck. “I’ll tell him you say hi and that you love him.”

“Lots,” Gerard adds.

Frank can see the sun starting to leak into their windows and Frank wraps his arms tightly around Gerard’s waist. Gerard takes the comb out of Frank’s hand and tosses it to the floor where the rest of their clothes lie. He turns in Frank’s arms and leans his weight into him until Frank lays them back against the pillows, pulling the blanket up over them. 

Frank never falls asleep on these nights, but it’s easier for Gerard if he thinks he’s asleep when Gerard leaves. He settles into the blankets and tucks Gerard’s head under his chin, rubs his hand down his back and then up to his neck, his fingers ghosting over where his pulse point would have been drumming. “S’not the last time,” Frank tells him. 

“Of course not,” Gerard says weakly, “I still want my jacket.”

Frank snorts and presses his lips to Gerard’s hair, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He listens to Gerard’s, harmonizing with Frank’s. He always thought they made beautiful music together. And he strains his ears, makes himself remember this sound until he only hears his own breath bouncing off the hotel room’s walls. 

Until his arms are empty. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is not what I planned on writing tonight, but when I get writer's block apparently I like to write sad sex.


End file.
